A common question: how has Muslimgauze developed and changed over the 10
years of 'commercial' distribution? An approach to this can be made through
the singles which have appeared at times across the decade. It also gives
shape to a set of reviews of the short form disc which have come my way recently
- and is not comprehensive in any way. Some of these releases are 'related'
to a full album ('Bhutto', 'Hebron Massacre') while others are short pieces
that stand alone ('Drugsherpa', 'In search of Ahmad Maser').

I have included 'Iran' because even though it is close to a full length release
(thirty four minutes - especially when considered from the world of vinyl)
the three tracks on it are described as re-mixes or versions, implying there
are originals somewhere. This was the first CD Muslimgauze, and the first
on a larger label (Soleilmoon had released a tape 'Untitled' which contained
much of the 'Abu Nidal/Coup D'Etat' release). 'Lion of Kandahar' layers percussion
- drums of various tones, bells, gongs - over a deep drone with scattered
descending string motifs to create a fast-paced, original oriental sound.
This could easily be an Arabic percussion ensemble. A subtle, longer rhythm
occurs as the layers are stripped back to one or two components at various
stages across the ten minutes: the drone and strings, or some toms. After
the second of these periods, the music fades totally to be replaced by a simple
kick drum, over which the other elements slowly re-gather, to recreate a stripped
version of the first half. The short version of 'Qom' starts with a slightly-processed
drum beating a slow rhythm with some faint synth in the background. Other
drums join in, accompanied by some rattling metal and a synth/woodwind tone
which hovers over the complex rhythms and provides a haunting focus. The gentle
build up to 'Intifadah' includes some distorted chanting (possibly Tuvan)
as bells, drums, metallic percussion and bursts of white noise combine. Tuned
percussion carries a recurring melody, and there is a twittering which could
be birds or synthetic. Again there is a period when the track strips back
to cymbals and some electronic elements, before a kick-drum starts up and
slowly layers are added to rebuild the track, but with a much sparser feel,
which ebbs and flows in intensity. A third period emphasises the chant over
a fast, gentle tom with ringing cymbals before again building to a full fast climax, followed by a short, subdued release. The subtlety, complexity and
sure hand that Muslimgauze demonstrates in these tracks says much about his
skill and the 'apprentice' period of the Limited Edition (and other) releases.
Much of what we consider the Muslimgauze sound and method are present (the
rhythms, tone, electronica, remixing, deft handling of long tracks), and only
the ambient strain isn't on display (and which isn't generally 'single' material
anyway). The main weakness is that the extended mixes both seem to depend
on the rather clichéd base of a kick drum, but rather than merely placing
the original melody over the new rhythm (the pattern of most 'dance'-type
remixes from the period), Muslimgauze follow the more interesting line of
playing with the other elements.

'Bhutto' combines a radio edit and album version of the track 'Benazir Bhutto'
from 'Zul'm' and a mix of 'Shiva Hooka'. The title track, in both its forms,
is a pleasant, bubbly piece of Arabic-influenced music: a gentle rhythm has
rising and falling lines, bird-like twitterings and subtle vocals. Interesting
but it sails past like a sunny day: perhaps this is the Benazir Bhutto of
an admirer, rather than the Virgin Iron-Pants of Salman Rushdie's 'Shame'.
The 'Radio Rabbat Remix' by (Australia's?) Sean Kelly is a nice summary of
the longer piece, and could get extensive air-play. 'Shiva Hooka (1000 Nights
Mix)' is more interesting as tentative tom strikes attempt to develop a rhythm,
winds echo through, echoing machinery rumbles through the background occasionally,
producing a dark minimalist landscape.

Muslimgauze said that events stimulated his musical composition - and few
are more obvious than 'Hebron massacre' written in response to a shooting
of Arabs by a Jewish settler. The single is an extended version of the track
on 'Salaam Alekum, Bastard' and has a cover which underscores the theme with
press cuttings from the period. Without this supporting context it would still
be obvious that the music referred to a dark event: this is a bleak musical
statement, a 'danse macabre' as one voice says, referring to the peace process.
Over a gentle rhythm set by the drums, an edgy, relentless synthesised maelstrom
rolls. There is a regular, stabbing chord which runs throughout (faded at
times, also processed); sheets of cutting sounds, particularly in the first
part; a distortion which recurs and dominates towards the end. The first half
lays the scene which intensifies in the second where a bass/synth line emerges
to underlie a building of pressure as the beat increases pace, the distortion
becomes more common and dubby echoes flow through. And the suddenly a totally
otherworldly musical coda, which could almost be a sample from an old Arabic
record. During the whole piece there are some direct (perhaps because in English)
vocal samples - people talking about the massacre and its impact. Somewhat
draining because of its intensity, this is a dramatic piece of music - the
clearest musico-political statement I have heard from Muslimgauze.

There is something about 3" CDs I like - the aesthetics of presentation
and the constraints of 20 minutes or so of music are part of it. Whatever,
when approached as the medium for composition, it brings out some great music.
'Drugsherpa' is no exception. This is a brooding work - hypnotic rather than
ambient. A slow rolling rhythm starts the piece, accompanied by drums and
prayer bells - and these bells are a recurring call which provides a continuity
through the musical journey. The percussion is overlaid with occasional dislocated
instrumental stabs issuing short themes, and some dreamy echoes including
the Muslimgauze shimmering strings, but always with a solid base. The drums
drop out after about 5 minutes leaving the synth line, revealing it as the
brooding heart of the work, and slowly other instruments return, including
some distant horns. The second half (or nearly two thirds) is a dubby trip
as minimal instrumentation of drums and other percussion, some dreaming voices
at one point, echo across the soundscape. The density builds but never as
complex as the opening, before a slow fade which ends in an electro-minimalist
bleeping. Whether related to the drugs of the title, this is a piece which
takes the mind on a wondrous journey - perhaps pottered by the Sherpas.

With 'In search of Ahmad Maser' Muslimgauze ventured into the area of the
MiniDisc, presenting 30 minutes of music across four tracks/parts. This is
the crackling, distorted stream of his music, where a rhythm loop is set in
train (they vary in length and complexity) and the focus is then on the subtle
distortions and tinkering which are introduced. The process flattens out the
music, removing the layers of instrumentation to a single ground. Some other
motifs are present, the backward horns on part 1, the strings in part 2 or
the synth in 4, but the loop is king. This is probably the least commercial
or broadly appreciated style, and in some tracks on other discs it is difficult
to see that much is happening. In the confines of a mini-album, though, the
variation is sufficient to catch your attention, particularly in the longer
part 4 where the rhythm is accelerated in the second half, or the rubbery
loops present earlier. But this is Muslimgauze stripped bare and at its most
confronting.

Other singles I have reviewed, which need to be slotted in this survey, are
the gorgeous ambience of 'Gulf Between Us' and the more modern rhythms of
the recent 'Lahore/Marseilles' and 'Melt'.

My opening question? Rhetorical: the singles are too small a sample, but
you, the reader, can probably see some changes. But do they reflect the whole
oeuvre?

review by Jeremy Keens
This text originally appeared here May 5, 1999.
Reproduced by permission.